


Moon to Let

by AppleDown



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Jonerys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleDown/pseuds/AppleDown
Summary: [Jonerys - Modern AU]Because of her slight obsession with Gothic romance novels, any man Dany has ever met always paled in comparison to the brooding, handsome heroes in her favourite stories. But when she meets a dark-eyed bartender during a holiday in Yorkshire, things might just change.After graduating from university, Daenerys and Missandei travel North where they have booked a three week holiday at Winterfell Hall, a family-run hotel on the Yorkshire moors. Here they meet the enticing Jon Snow and the entire Stark clan. And that's just the beginning.(There will be smut)





	1. True North

**Author's Note:**

> This story begged to be written for a long time. And so, finally, here it is. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**~ Chapter 1 ~**

**_True North_ **

**Day 1: DANY**

 

The rolling green hills of the Yorkshire countryside had an almost mythical power to them. To one side you could see the endless moors disappearing into the distance, wild and untamed, and just gazing out at them from the safety of the car, Dany could easily imagine Heathcliff and Cathy haunting the moors for all eternity. Or the plain but courageous Jane trying to escape the ghosts of Thornfield Hall.

 

“Disappearing into your books again?” Missandei asked, a knowing smile on her face.

 

“Something like that,” Dany replied while still keeping her eyes on the wild landscape outside, almost as if she was afraid it would evaporate if she looked away for just a second.

 

The two friends had been on the road for what seemed like days now, and it had been a terribly long drive since they set off from London early in the morning, the early summer morning still misty and cool. The drive up the M1 had been long and uneventful, tunes changing on the playlist they had created for the drive and with occasional stops at various rest stops to stock up on snacks and drinks.

 

**_Dany and Missandei’s Epic Trip – Rules_ **

_No. 1: There is no such thing as too many snacks (or snack stops)_

 

Now, after almost five hours, they were finally in Yorkshire, the coveted final destination of their road trip. Ever since Dany was a young girl, she had been ( _slighty_ ) obsessed with the Brontë sisters and their tales of Gothic romances, windswept moors and haunted old country estates. Now she would finally (finally!) get to see the landscapes that had inspired her literary heroines when they lived 150 years ago.

 

Missandei was convinced Dany’s obsession was borderline insane, and so had her parents in their own way. When she insisted she wanted to study English Literature in Leeds just to be closer to the place she so longed to visit, they had shaken their heads and nudged her to study at a more prestigious university. They had the means to pay for her living expenses anywhere, after all, and so, to Dany’s displeasure, she had ended up in London instead of Leeds.

 

But studying in London had, at least, meant she met Missandei. Her best friend also thought she was positively mad, dreaming herself away to the dark and windswept moors, but Dany could not be dissuaded. She wanted to go there and now was the time, her time.

 

After much debate, Missandei had finally given in. Instead of taking a trip abroad (“We could be tanning on a beach somewhere exotic, Dans! Imagine the drinks, and the men!”), the two friends had finally agreed to spend three weeks of their post-university-pre-actual-adult-life summer exploring the Yorkshire countryside (“There better be loads of good looking men, Dany. And pubs.”).  

 

“Oi, Dany, we’re here!” broken from her reverie by Missandei’s statement, Dany suddenly noticed that they had arrived, indeed.

 

A large sign bid them welcome to

 

_Winterfell Hall_

_Est. 1781._

 

\-------------------- o -------------------

 

A long gravel road wound its way through the hills and valleys for what seemed like miles after they had left the main road (“Bye bye civilisation,” Missandei commented dryly). But finally a great stone manor house rose above them, as if called upon by some magical force of times long forgotten (“You let your head get away with you, girl, that’s your trouble” her mother had always told her).

 

“That’s, uhm, massive”

 

“Yeah,” Dany mused in agreement. There was little else to say because Winterfell Hall was, above everything else, absolutely massive.

 

The old manor house looked like something out of one of her favourite Gothic tales: Dark and mysterious, its history etched into the building itself. It loomed over them, impressive and imposing all at once, dark set against the bright blue summer skies.

 

“Perfect,” Dany muttered to herself in awe as they got out of the car, grabbed their belongings and headed for the main building.

 

Dany had found the family run hotel after hours of extensive research and they were now booked to stay here for the next three weeks (paid for by the Targaryens as a graduation present). Originally, Winterfell Hall had been the home of various Lords and Ladies and, though still in possession of the Stark family, the Hall had since been converted into a country hotel, spa and restaurant.

 

“Alright, Dans, can we please go inside and get to our room? I’m completely exhausted!” Missandei complained, pulling at Dany’s arm.

 

“Alright, alright!”

 

The lobby matched the exterior in style and grandiosity, but otherwise the lobby, although large, was warm and welcoming. A large reception took up one end of the room whereas the other was filled with comfortable looking sofas and lounge chairs. A fireplace kept the area warm and cozy.

 

Behind the reception desk, a woman smiled at them in greeting.

 

“Welcome to Winterfell, ladies! How may I help you?” Her voice was pleasant and welcoming and Dany immediately felt like they’d made the right decision to come here.

 

“We’ve a room booked. Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

“Ah, yes, our long term guests” the woman greeted them enthusiastically. “We’re excited to have you here at last. My name is Catelyn Stark, my husband and I own the place”

 

“Wow,” Missandei muttered next to her. Dany knew Winterfell Hall was family run but hadn’t expected the actual owner to be behind the reception.

 

As if reading Dany’s thoughts Catelyn informed them that they were a bit understaffed tonight due to a former employee’s wedding. “Hope you don’t mind”

 

“Not at all”

 

“Wonderful. Let’s get you checked in then.”

 

The two girls gave Cat the required information and soon they had their room keys (“We’re getting separate rooms, miss. You promised me there’d be good looking Northerners, so I’m not taking any chances”). Just as they were about to reach for their bags, Catelyn rang a bell and seconds later a breathless man appeared from one of the adjoining rooms.

 

“Sorry Aunt Cat, not really used to being summoned by the bell” he explained as he almost ran up to the reception desk. Dany’s hand had frozen mid-air, hovering awkwardly above her small suitcase as she took in the stranger.

 

He was _fit_. There was no other way to describe the dark-haired man. His hair appeared curly, but was pulled back into a bun at the back of his head. A full beard adorned ( _who thinks that?!)_ his face, and he wore a casual outfit of a crisp light blue button-down shirt and dark jeans.

 

“Oh, it’s quite alright Jon,” Cat said, suddenly with an edge to her voice. “Could you please help our guests with their suitcases? Room 301 and 302, please.”

 

“Aye, of course” the man, _Jon_ , agreed and grabbed both Dany’s and Missandei’s bags and swung them over his shoulder.

 

“Follow me if you please, ladies” he smiled encouragingly over his shoulders and suddenly Dany noticed the spark in his eyes.

 

A sharp pain in the form of Missandei’s boot connecting with her shin finally broke Dany of out her reverie, and while her friend was giggling quietly, she muttered to herself to stop drooling over the first and the best guy she saw here in Brontë Country.

 

  _But_ , a part of her subconscious added, _he does look exceptionally fine from here._ And he did. Allowing herself to enjoy the view for now, Dany trailed behind and Jon walked ahead up the stairs to an unknown part of the manor with Missandei close at his heels.

 

“I take it you’re not usually the bellboy?” her friend asked, always one to strike up conversation easily.

 

“No, I’m not. Just helping Aunt Cat out for the evening while everyone else is away” His voice was pleasant, deep and dark _and you’re already besotted, silly girl_.

 

“That’s nice. Do you not work here normally then?” Missandei continued the conversation, casting a knowing glance over her shoulder at Dany. It was almost as if she was trying to lure more information out of him just for Dany’s sake (“We can be each other’s wingwomen, Dans!”).

 

_Rule no. 2: We are both single, we are allowed to have fun._

 

“Aye, I do actually,” Jon informed Missandei. “I help out in the bar most nights with Robb, my cousin.”

 

“Sounds like this place is entirely family run”

 

“Mostly, I suppose. We’ve got a few extra staff around to help things run smoothly, but Ned and Cat, my aunt and uncle, prefer the friendly atmosphere of a family place.”

 

“How quaint, don’t you agree Dans?”

 

Missandei’s question startled her slightly, but Dany was able to stutter a flustered “Yes” in reply. An awkward silence followed her reply for a few seconds until they finally made it to what appeared to be their rooms. Carefully Jon placed their bags on the ground, gently placing a hand on the polished wooden door to room 301.

 

“I believe this is you, ladies. Enjoy your stay. And if you need drinks, I’m your man. Just find me at the bar”

 

“Oh, that sounds perfect. Wouldn’t you say, Dans?”

 

Another “Yes”, a polite nod from Jon and the two girls were once again on their own in the long deserted hallway.

 

“I’ve never seen you _drool_ like that over anyone. Not even Daario when the two of you were going out.” Missandei looked like she was moments away from a fit of giggles.

 

“I wasn’t _drooling_. Just appreciating the view.” Suddenly out of the presence of Jon, Dany had found her wits again.

 

Missandei hummed in agreement, still fighting back the laughter.

 

Muttering under her breath, Dany struggled with the old-fashioned room key and finally managed to unlock her room door. The last thing she heard before closing the door on her best friend was “Drinks in fifteen! I will kick down your door if you refuse.”

 

Guess she was seeing Jon again soon. Very soon.

 

\-------------------- o --------------------

 

To call Winterfell Hall’s bar a _bar_ was wrong on so many levels. The beautiful room was grander than anything she could remember ever seeing in a hotel before, and her parents had taken her to a fair share of upscale hotels around the world. The large room was elegantly decorated with mirrors along the wall and dark green carpeted floors. A bar ran along one side of the room, dark mahogany wood with engravings of wolves and other creatures of the forest.

 

However, the most welcome sight of the room wasn’t the endless rows of elegantly aligned bottles behind the counter, it was the man standing there. Jon looked perfectly at ease in these surroundings, as if it was his second home.

 

Dany pulled nervously at the hem of the dress she had changed into whilst waiting for her friend. The 15 minutes her friend her given her to get ready turned out not to be nearly enough for Missandei herself and now something close to 30 minutes had passed and still no Missandei.

  
Feeling oddly brave (and suspecting her friend was taking far longer than needed to fix her hair), Dany instead decided to head down to the bar on her own.

 

Hearing her enter, Jon looked up and gave her an earth-shattering smile. Surely, this level of friendliness wasn’t required to work in a hotel bar.

 

“Hullo!” he greeted her and she smiled awkwardly in return. “Lose your friend on the way?”

 

“Yeah, hair issues. Apparently the humidity is different here”

 

“Of course. Well, can I get you anything while you wait…” he let the question hang in the air, waiting for her to fill in the gaps.

 

“Yes, please. I’m Dany, by the way.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Dany. Did I hear correctly when your friend called you _Dans_?” Wow, he certainly was observant. Smiling, she slid onto a chair by the bar, enjoying the chance to have some semblance of a conversation with this handsome stranger.

 

“Yes, my name is actually Daenerys, although only my parents use my full name”

 

“That’s…” he trailed off.

 

“Welsh, originally” she offered and he laughed, a deep chuckle.

 

“Well then, _Daenerys,_ what’s your drink?”

 

“Dark and Stormy?” Nodding, he set about making the drink, expertly handling the ingredients and moments later an appetizing drink appeared in front of her in an elaborate crystal glass.

 

“Thank you,” she said simply and smiled fully for the first time since arriving.  

 

Perhaps it was the atmosphere, the beautiful room, the good (and also beautiful) company, but for some reason the drink prepared by Jon was the best Dark n’ Stormy Dany had ever had. A small moan escaped her lips. Embarrassment filled her, but it tripled when she noticed how Jon looked entirely flustered.

 

In a frenzied panic, she stuttered “This is great!” but it sounded forced coming from her lips. Jon nodded still rooted to the spot.

 

Trying to avoid further embarrassment Dany tried to focus on her drink, paying particularly close attention to the ice cubes in her drink. However, the fascination was short lived.

 

“What brings you to Yorkshire?” Jon asked in a feeble attempt to overcome the silence that had taken reign of the room.

 

A sip of her drink ( _for courage_ ) and Dany finally found herself able to speak again. “Just thought it was time we saw this part of the country.”

 

“Aye, it’s beautiful ‘round here. It’s why I’m still here, can’t bring myself to leave. But you and your friend aren’t really part of the usual crowd we get up here.”

 

Dany’s brow furrowed. “How so?”

 

“You’re not part of the Beige Biddies, as Arya calls them.” He chuckled at that which left Dany puzzled.

 

“Beige what?”

 

“Biddies. Old ladies on buses. They arrive by the dozen, all wearing beige from top to toe, drink endless amounts of sherry and then they all carry a copy of _Jane Eyre_ or _Wuthering Heights_. Occasionally you’ll meet a rebel with _Agnes Grey_ but otherwise they’re all the same.”

 

Ignoring the fact that Dany herself had brought along a copy of each of the aforementioned books, she laughed at Jon’s story. For anyone dreaming of reliving the gothic tales, Winterfell Hall was the perfect spot.

 

“I’m glad we can shake things up a bit, then”

 

“Aye, me too” He smiled warmly at her and she could feel a blush creeping up her neck. She couldn’t explain what it was that had her behaving like a school girl again, but something about Jon and this place had thrown her off balance completely.

 

“So this is where the party’s at?” Missandei called out. She plopped down on the stool next to Dany with her hair looking suspiciously similar to when they had arrived earlier. Dany couldn’t help a sneaking suspicion that Missandei had simply elected to remain in her room in order to give Dany a moment with Jon. Alone.

 

Apparently she was like an open book when it came to men. She was nowhere near the shy maiden that featured as the heroine of many of her favourite books, instead Dany had dated a few men in her time, both before and during her time at university. However, thinking about it now, none of them really looked quite as good as Jon did, leaning against the counter.

 

“Yes, I was just about to get the dance floor ready” Jon said dryly.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind a night out although I’m sure that Dany here would prefer to stay hauled up in her room with a book”

 

Ignoring her friend’s comment Dany focused on downing the last of her drink. That certainly had gone down quickly. Ever the attentive bartender apparently, Jon immediately noticed and grabbed the glass

 

“Refill?” She nodded her consent and Missandei took this as her chance to order a drink for herself.

 

\-------------------- o --------------------

 

Three drinks later and Dany was feeling calm and content. The elaborate bar still only housed the three of them and it seemed the entire place was completely deserted in favour of the wedding somewhere nearby that Catelyn Stark had mentioned earlier.

 

Tonight was the first time in what seemed like years that Dany finally felt free. After years of studying, weeks of exams, she was now finally far, far away from everything that required commitment. Instead she was facing a long break with her best friend in a beautiful place. And she could look forward to marvel at the beauty of a certain bartender for the next few weeks as well.

 

Okay, she was potentially a bit tipsy but she welcomed the feeling.

 

Missandei had said something that made Jon chuckle, his chest vibrating as the deep sound escaped him. She very much wanted to know what it feel like to run her hands up and down his sculpted body but for now all she could do was enjoy the view.

 

_Okay, definitely more than a little tipsy._

 

“Dans? You still here?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

Apparently her state of drunkenness made her easily distracted ( _by imagining the bartender shirtless_ ). Now Missandei was staring at her, brown eyes inquisitive.

 

“Jon asked if we wanted to join him and the other Starks for Open Mic night at the local pub on Friday. You in?”

 

Before her brain caught up she had agreed with a nod and a small smile in Jon’s direction.

 

“Brilliant, should be fun”. That voice. It flowed into her ears like the most beautiful melody ever composed, soothing and warming all at once. And then he smiled in return, a full blown wide smile, teeth showing, eyes sparkling and crinkles forming. _What a smile_.

 

“Alright, that’s it,” Missandei interrupted. “Dans, it’s time to go to bed. You have three more weeks to imagine one another in various states of undress. Enough for tonight”

 

And just like that she felt her smile falter and instead the damned tell-tale blush crept back up her neck, spread to her face and she suddenly felt very hot and flustered. Missandei simply knew her far, far too well.

 

She had only been smiling at him, nothing more. Yet Missandei had been right. She had been mentally undressing Jon.

 

\-------------------- o --------------------

 

The images of a half-dressed Jon refused to leave her as she climbed into the crisp bedlinen a bit later. After an awkward goodbye where Jon informed them randomly of the breakfast times, Missandei had pulled her back to their rooms, pushed Dany into her own room and said goodnight.

 

And now she was supposed to sleep. Easy, right?

 

Turned out it was more or less impossible. Actually entirely, completely, _fucking_ impossible.

 

Instead her perverted mind kept returning to the stunning bartender with the mischievous grin. Unable to control the path her thoughts wandered, said bartender seemed to have suddenly appeared in the room, and _, gods_ , was he a vision.

 

Black, unruly hair fanned about his head, having come undone from the restrictive elastic band. Slowly he walked towards her, like a wolf stalking its prey, allowing it one last hopeless chance to flee before pouncing on it.

 

Her breath grew raspy at the mere thought of this imaginary Adonis. She hadn’t done this in such a long time, thinking it unnecessary. But suddenly she was writhing on the sheets, fighting for control, willing herself to sleep.

 

But sleep would not come.

 

Instead the phantom version of Winterfell’s Bartender flickered back into existence, refusing to be denied. And Dany had been raised to always be courteous and patient, so who was she to object.

 

Fight long lost, her fingers embarked upon their southbound journey.

 

At the sight, the imaginary Jon hummed in appreciation, a deep sound, smooth as honey. And then he was on her, replacing her own shaky hand with deft fingers, dipping, flicking, exploring.

 

It really had been too long and within moments, almost all too soon, a wave of pleasure crashed over her, pulsing through her like wildfire. Nerve endings were on fire, she was on fire, panting harshly into her pillow.

 

The ghost of a kiss brushed against her temple. _Sleep, sweet girl_ it breathed and then she was alone in her room again, the only sound the beating of her pulse against her temple as she fought to regain control of her ragged breathing.

 

Before she drifted into a blissful sleep, it almost sounded like a giggle coming from the room next to hers. Maybe this really was Thornfield Hall, and Bertha Rochester had risen from her fiery grave to haunt the empty hallways at night, ever dreaming of setting fire to the damned walls that had encased her and kept her prisoner for so long.

  
_Unlikely,_ Dany decided before she fell into a deep slumber, a satiated smile on her lips.  


	2. Let Your Fingers do the Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany grow closer over a few days, settling into a comfortable rhythm. Then, one evening in the hotel bar, Dany's fingers go on a little walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, better late than never, right? 
> 
> Thank you so much for your warm welcome, I really appreciate it! And so, without further ado, here's chapter 2!

**~ Chapter 2 ~**

**_Let Your Fingers Do the Walking_ **

**Day 2-4: JON**

 

The mist lay like a thick blanket on the ground surrounding Winterfell Hall that morning, impenetrable, a perfectly ordinary British summer morning. Glum weather, rain threatening on the horizon and yet Jon couldn’t quite bring himself to indulge in the misery he often felt when the weather was this, well, gloomy.

His cousins always called him an expert at brooding, always turning his eyes down when anyone altogether _too_ happy entered the room. Today, however, he didn’t feel quite as broody. In fact, the landscape was positively beautiful, even though you couldn’t see a single thing beyond the misty wall outside the storeroom window.

 Oh well, it would most likely clear at some point later in the day when the winds picked up, like they almost always did.

“What on earth has gotten into you?” Arya, his favourite cousin, blinked her eyes miserably at the harsh light in the pristinely white stockroom. Now 18 and just out of 6th form, Arya had clearly participated enthusiastically in the festivities at yesterday’s wedding but in her eagerness to make a pretty penny before leaving for university in September, she had agreed to an early shift.

“Last night was fun, then?” He recounted, ignoring her question. Arya just leaned against the wall and groaned. Like any normal person, Jon had suffered through his fair share of hangovers, so he could sympathise with his young cousin. At the same time, it felt extremely weird to see her in this condition. To him, she would always remain the wild little girl she had once been.

She was still wild, no denying it, but she definitely wasn’t a little girl anymore (in age, that was. She was still by far the shortest of the Starks, having been long outgrown by her two younger brothers).

“You’re too happy, it’s nauseating.” 

“I think that would be the vodka talking, Arya”

“Urgh, don’t even mention vodka.”

Chuckling, Jon continued with his task of folding tablecloths. This was probably the least enjoyable part of his job, but today of all days it wasn’t that bad.

And he could thank the memory of last night for that. When Aunt Cat had first roped him into taking a shift that night and skipping the wedding altogether, Jon had imagined the day to be one of the more miserable of his life.

One, he and his aunt had never gotten along that well, and second, Winterfell Hall would be completely empty.

But then Dany had walked in, all doe-eyed with her lovely hair and enticing smile. _Had he really just called a girl lovely?_

There was no denying it, the attraction to her was definitely there. Something about her awkwardness lured him in, and he was done for the second she moaned in pleasure from just sipping a drink. The sound had hit him in his weak spot, and let’s just say he was exceptionally glad to be able to hide behind the counter at that specific moment.

But as they talked, both before and after the arrival of her friend, he had become even more enthralled by the petite girl.

Ah yes, the attraction was clear as day to him (very unlike the weather on this not so fine day). Its presence was undoubtedly there, like an inferno raging through his blood. And suddenly he sought to be burned.

How things could change in a day.

\-------------------- o --------------------

Throughout the day there were no further encounters with the two ladies from the day before, much to Jon’s dismay. Instead he saw plenty of hungover cousins, doing their best to hide their misery from their mother’s knowing glance. They managed, mostly, Jon had to admit, until Jon’s Uncle Ned appeared at lunch looking, well, absolutely awful.

“I am never going to do anymore drinking games, you lot” Ned pointed a finger accusingly at his youngest daughter. “I feel terrible”.

Clearly scandalised and her husband’s appearance, Cat brought a hand to her mouth and shook her head disapprovingly. “Ned, for goodness sake.” The rest of the Stark clan chuckled under their breaths. Unlike his wife, the family patriarch, Ned, did not possess much of a sense of propriety when he was with his family and friends.

When Jon’s good-for-nothing father had upped and left Jon’ mum before he was even born, Ned had extended a hand to his sister and pulled her in from the brink of disaster. As far as the story went, Lyanna had a happy pregnancy, excited to meet her infant son. Unfortunately, the relationship was to be a short one, and Lyanna Stark passed away from unseen complications shortly after giving birth.

Ned had taken his new-born nephew under his wing and brought him up as one of his own amongst his many cousins. Jon would always be grateful for his aunt and uncle’s generosity, but there would forever be a lingering doubt as to whether or not he really belonged at Winterfell Hall.  

For theatrical effect, Ned groaned in mock pain before digging into the delicious meal prepared by the head chef, Hot Pie. That was one of the things Jon had missed the most about his childhood home when he was away at uni; The home cooked meals. Somehow a bacon buttie didn’t quite do the trick. 

\-------------------- o --------------------

When Jon wasn’t tasked with tending the bar, he helped around Winterfell, managing ad hoc tasks here and there. Sometimes fences needed mending, sometimes the grass needed mowing, it all depended on the season really. Today, however, his mind kept drifting as he tried (and failed) to focus on the task at hand. A hedge needed trimming at the very back of the property near the river.

A beautiful garden with summer roses, gravel paths and neat white benches was one of Winterfell’s prides, at least if you asked his aunt. Personally, Jon much preferred an area further back down a hill where the river happily trickled pass in a never ending stream.

Here nature had been allowed to come into its own a bit more than in the trimmed garden, apple trees growing wild and free. A small cottage lay forgotten there was well, unused and almost forgotten. It was a place Jon liked to go when he needed privacy.

The rose garden, however, did not offer much solitude. At least not judging by the footsteps approaching.

“Jon,” his uncle greeted him. He looked much better than he had at lunch. “Rob mentioned you might want a word?”

“Right”. He had thought to approach his uncle several times in the past month or so but never mustered up the courage. Seemed Robb had beaten him to it, again. Normally Jon would have no problem talking to Ned, but the matter at hand was a bit awkward… 

“So?” Ned prompted teasingly.

“Uhm.”

Jon really had no idea how to mention to his Uncle that he wanted to move out of the shared flat he had with Robb, simply because his cousin and relatively new girlfriend, Margaery, were too loud.

Growing up, Jon and Robb had always been close, both in age and friendship. But sometimes there was such a thing as _too close_.

“Jon?”

“Right,” he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just, Robb and Margaery seem to really like each other and I thought that maybe they’d want to move in together, eventually…” He trailed off, pathetically trying to think of something more to say.

But, like always, Ned was able to read his nephew like an open book.

“So you’re saying the walls are too thin, yeah?”

Jon remained quiet, hesitant.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Ned chuckled “I’ll see what I can do.”

\-------------------- o --------------------

Jon didn’t see Dany again until evening when she and Missandei returned to the bar exactly like the evening before. Like clockwork, Dany showed up first and made a beeline for the bar where Jon and Robb shared the bartending duty for the evening. Like the night before she ordered a Dark n’ Stormy and drank it while keeping conversation light. As happy as Jon was to see her, he would have preferred not having to share the moment with Robb, his infuriatingly curious cousin.

The next night she appeared as well, same time, same barstool, same drink. And Robb was still there, casting knowing looks in their direction as they continued to make pleasant small talk. She was so easy to talk to and conversation seemed to flow effortlessly between them if it wasn’t for the fact that Missandei and now also Robb kept making jabs at them, urging them to _“just do it already”_. As much as Jon wanted to take Robb up on his advice, he didn’t - and once again, for the third night in a row, he had to watch Dany and Missandei head back up to their rooms as he continued to work, serving endless amounts of sherry to the elderly women that had repopulated the bar.

On the fourth night, Jon found himself with a rare free night and no idea how to spend it. Normally he would venture out, visit a nearby town or curl up on the couch with a book in his and Robb’s shared flat, but tonight it just felt inadequate. Instead he found himself drawn to the bar, awkwardly sipping beer on what now seemed to be the wrong side of the counter.

“You do come across as a bit desperate, mate” Robb joked but Jon tried his best to ignore his cousin. “If you need tips on how to _court a lady_ , I’m happy to help”

“You’d help more if you gave me another beer, please”

Robb held up his hands in mock defeat and just laughed at Jon’s apparent misery.

He was desperate, there was no denying it. When he’d tried to think of something to do tonight, the only thing he wanted to do was spend another night talking to Dany (preferably without his annoying cousin present)

And so here he was.

And there she was. With a content sigh she slid onto the stool next to his, short legs dangling off the edge.

“Not working tonight, I take it?” she sounded almost amused to see him on this side, like he was completely out of place. At least that’s how he felt.

“Poor Jon here couldn’t bear to be away from my delightful self” Robb jokingly interjected and Dany; laughed, a sound as sweet as molten honey.

And he was absolute rubbish at being poetic.

“What’ll it be, love?” Ever the overly friendly bartender, Robb took Dany’s order, then placed another pint in front of Jon. To be on the safe side.

One sip, two sips. _To be on the safe side_.

Next to him Dany’s legs continued to kick aimlessly at the empty air, searching (and not finding) for support, somewhere to anchor herself.

For some reason it almost seemed to him that she as well sensed an awkwardness now that he was on the other side of the counter.     

“Jon!” Someone called. _Arya._

“Come over here!” _And Sansa._

Apparently, the Stark clan had decided to hang out in the hotel bar on that particular evening. Any hope he had had of spending just five minutes alone with the girl that haunted his every moment, awake and asleep, slipped through his fingers right then and there.

Awkwardly he slipped of the stool and then paused, hovering by her stool. Dany gazed at him questioningly.

“Do you, uhm…” he trailed off. _Why so awkward, Snow?_ “You can join us, if you want, that is.”

Lilac eyes searched his. _So mesmerizing._ And the three beers he’d already had were seemingly already getting to his head.

“Are you sure?”

“I’d love the company.”

“Okay then”

“They’re not bad, Arya and Sansa. Just bit loud,” he warned her as they walked towards the table his two cousins had commandeered.

He didn’t miss the look the two girls exchanged but decided to ignore it for his own sake and for Dany’s too.

“Dany, meet my cousins, Arya and Sansa.”

They waved in greeting.

\-------------------- o --------------------

He was drunk.

At least Jon was fairly certain that he was drunk. He had lost count of how many drinks he’d had by now, but judging by how everything had become a bit hazy, it had to be quite a few drinks at least.

The raucous laughter that filled the air from their table indicated that he wasn’t the only one. That was something at least.

Jon wasn’t normally one to overindulge in alcohol, but the presence of a certain ice-blond girl seemed to require a bit of liquid courage if he was to have something resembling a normal conversation with her next to him.

It might be his slow mind, but Jon was almost certain that at some point during the past few hours Dany had somehow scooted even closer to him in the booth, her leg almost (almost!) touching his.

What was almost as incredible was how well she got along with his two cousins. Sansa had been a bit apprehensive at first, but one whiskey later and she seemed to adore Dany almost as much as Jon himself. Arya had taken to her immediately, and when Missandei had joined the group a bit later she had fallen into the conversation without any difficulty.

Robb, who was still tending to the Beige Biddies by the bar, kept casting them sullen glances. Whenever Jon caught him looking, he’d just wave back cheerfully and Robb would shake his head in amusement.

Maybe there was something about it when his cousin accused him of being too broody. For once he felt entirely perfectly content.

Jon reached for his beer, an excellent local brew when suddenly…

Suddenly, mid-IPA-sip, a small but scorching warm touch ghosted over his knee. At first he was certain his drunken imagination had conjured it up, tricked him (it wouldn’t be the first time in the past few days).

But then, there it was again. Elegant fingertips swept over his knee, over his thigh, barely making contact, but each touch left a blazing trail of fire in its wake. His breath hitched, still not fully believing. Daring a glance at Dany told him the truth: Oh yes, she definitely knew what she was doing.

Encouraged, it would seem, by his quick gaze, Daenerys suddenly rested her small hand on his knee, giving it a tight squeeze. And another. Then her small fingers scraped lightly up his thigh, inching ever higher.

Jon’s hold on his pint glass tightened, knuckles whitening and suddenly all his senses centred around Dany’s delicate and maddening touch.

“Alright there, mate?” Arya stared at him inquisitively.

Apparently, his reaction to Dany’s ministrations hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

He coughed. “Yeah, yeah. Might’ve had too much to drink though.”

“You’re such a lightweight!” Sansa complained teasingly, whereas Arya eyed him warily. Knowingly, perhaps. In a last and desperate attempt not to give himself away, he brought the glass of beer to his lips and drank hungrily.

Howev,er seeing how it unnerved him only seemed to spur Dany on. The intensity of her touch increased, palm pressed flat against his muscular leg, nails digging into his skin through the rough material of his jeans.

His sensory system was nearing overload, the nearness of her sending his mind to places it should not be going sat there at a table in a bar. Surrounded by his cousins and in the establishment owned by his aunt and uncle, no less.

Yet all Jon wanted to do in that very moment was to grab Daenerys and crush her to him, kiss her until they were both out of breath, then strip her of every single offensive piece of clothing and have his way with her until they were both completely and entirely spent.

It seemed Dany had similar ideas. Suddenly fingers traced patterns on his thigh, faster, higher, igniting his every nerve. Blood rushed south and breathing became harder by the second.

And then she laughed, the sweetest and purest sound he had ever heard, in response to some joke told when Jon’s mind was far, far away.

Unable to avert his gaze any longer, Jon looked at the woman sitting next to him and she was breath-taking. Sweet and happy, getting on with his family, and still anything but innocent.

This she proved by suddenly resting her hand over his groin, hand warm and comforting, yet teasing and so incredibly _fucking_ hot. The effect she had on him must have been clear as day, and judging by the smile that claimed her pretty face, she was bloody pleased with herself.

A gently squeeze, and then suddenly the hand was gone, like a long lost dream that evaporated into thin air with the coming of day.

“Alright, I’m hitting the hay, you lot. Thanks for a brilliant evening, though,” someone said.

“Yeah, good idea,” someone else agreed.

Slowly coming to his senses Jon noticed both of his cousins getting up, bidding the rest of the company goodnight. All he could do was nod in acknowledgement.

Next, Missandei stood and looked expectantly at her friend. “I’m exhausted. You’ coming?”

And much to Jon’s dismay Dany, too, got up.

“Goodnight Jon”

“Uh, yeah”, flummoxed, clumsy, “night”.

Dany and Missandei made their way back towards the lobby, but just before they exited the bar, Daenerys cast one last glance over her shoulder. A coy and satisfied smile graced her features, eyes glinting with mirth and, dare he hope, _lust_

  
Yeah, it would be a while before Jon could get out of his seat without giving the few remaining patrons the fright of their lives. He took a large gulp of beer.

 _Cheers_ , indeed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The third one is mostly written and will be up soon(ish). And it will be smutty, I promise you that.


	3. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the attraction is mutual it eventually becomes difficult to deny. At least that's the case for Dany and Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And.... suddenly it's a few months later. Sorry! But life caught up with me after the summer so I've had very little time to dedicate to this story. At least you get a new chapter. And it's fairly saucy, so.... without further ado - enjoy!

**~ Chapter 3 ~**

**_The Other Side_ **

**Day 5: DANY**

 

Her hair stuck unpleasantly to the back of her neck, her skin moist with sweat from exhaustion. Mustering up the last of her strength Dany pushed on.

_Almost there._

One foot in front of the other and soon she could finally stop to take in the incredible view from the peak.

Green grassland as far as the eye could see, a great grass sea, a stark contrast against the uncharacteristically clear blue sky. A light breeze blew and made the grass ripple, it almost looked like waves.

“Never again!” Missandei cried out from behind her, bending over and supporting her weight on her knees. The hike up one of the Yorkshire Dales Three Peaks had been a trying one, but now that they had reached the top of Pen-y-ghent, the breathtaking views had definitely been worth the effort.

Dany wasn’t entirely sure that Missandei agreed. After many days of following Dany’s sightseeing bucket list, she had to give it to her best friend. She definitely did her best to pretend she was actually enjoying it as well. The day before they had driven to Haworth, seen the Brontë Parsonage. Dany had been in near ecstasy by the time they got back to Winterfell Hall. Mixed with Jon’s reaction to her, uhm, exploration of his leg two nights before, she had been in the 7th heaven.

And like her first night at Winterfell, she had had a (sadly) imaginary visitor during the night. When she woke up this morning she had felt oddly fidgety. _Some people might just call it “horny”_ Dany chastised herself but she refused to admit it out loud.

In an attempt to gain some kind of self-control Dany had suggested that she and Missandei embrace nature that day. Dany had always loved hiking, spending endless hours in her childhood exploring the expansive ground of her parent’s manor. Missandei, on the other hand, hated hiking.

In that moment a newfound appreciation for her best friend’s tolerance filled Dany. She would really have to agree to a night out soon, she expected.

Having finally regained her breath, Missandei was finally able to take in the stunning view of the landscape laid out before them.

“Okay, I’ll give it to you. This view is fantastic”

“Told you so”

For a few moments they stood in companionable silence, simply enjoying the view.

“You are buying all of my drinks tonight”

“What’s tonight?”

Missandei grinned mischievously, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“We’re going to the local pub with the Starks, remember? And if you and that _terribly handsome_ bartender don’t get down to business tonight, I swear I will lock you in a stone cottage somewhere. That would suit your positively antiquated understanding of romance.”

Somewhere during the past few days, Dany had completely forgotten about Jon’s invite to join his family at the local pub. Suddenly her plan to regain some sense of self-control seemed entirely useless. _Fat lot of good that was_.

Guess she was going to the pub.

With Jon.

To the pub with Jon.

Interesting.

\-------------------- o --------------------

When the Starks had claimed that Open Mic night at the local pub was a big event they hadn’t been exaggerating. The place was absolutely packed, and a seemingly endless stream of new arrivals poured through the doors. The Crossroads had seemed large when they arrived a few hours earlier but now it seemed to shrink in size by the minute.

When they got back to Winterfell Hall late in the afternoon, sweaty and out of breath, a cheerful Arya had cornered them in the lobby to confirm that they were actually joining them that evening. Before Dany had a chance to get a word in, Missandei eagerly confirmed and Arya reacted enthusiastically by muttering: “Jon will be pleased!”.

And so now, here they were.

The many bodies pressed together tightly in a rare moment of complete contentment mixed with a certain amount of alcohol. Condensation had made the windows foggy, light from the outside pouring in from the high street of Winter Town.

Dany tried very hard to make out the pattern the light created, she imagined her finger drawing nonsensical patterns on the condensed class, feeling the cool glass’ gentle pressure against her skin. Anything, _oh anything_ , to be less aware of the warm leg pressed against hers under the table.

The situation was almost comical in how much it resembled the one just the previous night: The two of them pressed against one another, the same people surrounding the table. Yet whatever liquid courage that possessed her the night before had evaporated like dewdrops in the early sunlight.

Yet, try as she might, all she could sense in that very moment was the nearness of his body. And how desperately she longed to feel him pressed against her, hot breath on her neck.

It had to be the beer talking, surely it had to.

Suddenly the pressure against her leg eased. Jon jumped up like he had been catapulted out of his seat.

“Going for a smoke,” he explained haltingly but as he was talking Dany found herself following his lead. His eyes seemed to be sparkling, dark and stormy eyes, and ( _fuck it!_ ), she was absolutely, completely attracted to this guy.

“Could use one too” she almost whispered and with a half-nod he turned and headed for some back door she hadn’t noticed before. Nevermind the fact that she didn’t smoke, the intensity of Jon’s burning glare was enough to make her agree to smoke 20 if it came down to it.

Jon al but threw himself at the door, disappearing into a blissfully empty hallway. The noticeably cooler temperature hit her skin like a an icy breeze, quickening her breathing, prickling her skin.

And then she noticed that Jon had stopped just outside the door, still in the hallway.

The door swung shut behind her, almost muting the sound of the noisy pub.

Nervous and full of anticipation she finally met his gaze again and the smouldering look was still there, pupils dilated. So it hadn’t just been her that was hyper aware of how closely they had been pressed together.

_Deep breath._

“I don’t smoke, actually” she whispered, taking a step closer to him.

“I don’t either”.

And then he pounced, lips colliding with hers. The force of his embrace forced her to stumble backwards in the narrow hallway and her back was suddenly pressed harshly against the wall. But it hardly mattered.

Gone was the ever polite and considerate Jon _the barman_. Instead he had been replaced by a man controlled by his most primal instincts, and Dany was entirely at his mercy.

There was only really one thought that mattered, one thing. And that was the absolutely delicious feel of Jon pressed against her, lips meeting hers again, and again, and again.

Sucking in a breath she opened her mouth to him in invitation and he promptly took it. Tongues met in tangled tango, retreating, dueling. One of his hands dug deliciously into her hip while the other was pressed against the wall next to her fact to support his weight.

The smell of him was intoxicating, the feel of his lips just what she needed. Her hands clawed aggressively at his hair, pulling and tugging. Their equally frenzied breathing mingled as the kiss deepened, grew and changed direction.

“Uhm, excuse me lad.” Someone cleared their throat, loudly. And suddenly the feel of Jon’s lips on her own was gone and she almost groaned in frustration.

“Davos.”

“Sorry to interrupt ya, lad, but I need to get more beer from the storeroom. You lot are thirsty tonight”. The older man seemed familiar enough with Jon, a devilish glint in his friendly eyes.

“Right”. Davos continued down the hallway, shaking his head and laughing to himself.

Dany observed the exchange, her mind slowly growing clearer. Her whole body tingled from the heated make-out session and if she really tried she could almost still feel Jon’s lips on hers.

Slowly she finally forced herself to look at him and she almost laughed at the sight of his ruffled hair. Evidently he also suffered at the loss of contact.

“I could actually use some proper fresh air. You?” she asked gently, trying desperately to control her breathing.

“Yeah” and then he grabbed her hand. Electric pulses shot up her arm at his simple touch, the tingling sensation returning.

Carefully he lead her through the throng of people towards the door, but Dany barely paid attention to her shifting surroundings.

Cold air tickled her skin when they emerged from the over-crowded pub, but this she also barely noticed. All she could focus on was Jon’s hand in hers, gently leading her somewhere she trusted him to find. He led her down the high street, then down a side street away from prying eyes.

A calm silence surrounded them, only their steps echoed into the quiet night. Jon continued to pull her along for another few minutes before they came to a stop in front of a small park gate. It was deserted at this time of night and the best chance they would have of complete privacy around here, Dany assumed.

Once inside, hidden behind a small cluster of trees, Jon suddenly stopped ahead of her, his breathing heavy and ragged.

“There,” he said, “fresh air”. He turned towards her then and in the summer twilight she could make out his handsome face, a small smile playing at his lips.

“I like air” she managed quietly, but Jon seemed to have decided that they were done talking for the time being. She agreed wholeheartedly.

Jon dipped his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss as a hand came up to rest in her hair, ensuring that her lips stayed locked with his. Not that she had any intentions of doing anything but continue to kiss this marvel of a man.

Their first kiss had been one of urgency, aggression and lust and Dany was fairly sure they would have been without clothes on within minutes if Davos hadn’t interrupted them. This kiss, however, was slow and sensual. Their lips moved together slowly, each taking their time to simply enjoy the moment.

Unable to control herself Dany let her hands roam up his arms, taking note of the toned muscles underneath the soft material of his shirt. Finally they settled in his hair, anchoring him to her. When her fingers pulled at his hair, Jon let out a breathy moan and opened his mouth to her.   

Dany threw herself into the kiss without abandon. Her whole body shivered with excitement and want, and she pulled herself even closer to him, hoping to almost immerse herself in all that was Jon.

His thought seemed to be similar to hers and he stepped closer to her as well, letting her feel his desire for her. It was wonderfully apparent as his hardness pressed into her him. An ache shot through her with such force that her knees buckled.

Encouraged by her reaction, both of Jon’s hand came down under her legs to lift her up as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. Walking forwards a few steps, he leaned her against a tree for support. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around him and immediately felt his erection pressed against her aching center.

A moan escaped her.

Suddenly Jon intensified the kiss, claiming her lips over and over. Simultaneously he ground his hips against her, sending shockwaves of pleasure and want through her body. Dany found herself clutching at Jon’s back, trying to hold on, but her strength was diminishing and she soon had to let a leg fall to the ground for additional support.

Jon immediately saw a solution to the problem. His freed hand drifted up her leg, under her dress and, _dear gods_ , even higher. As his fingers ghosted over her already damp underwear, Dany whimpered against Jon’s lips.

Gently he pulled away from her, eyes boring intensely into hers, asking permission. She whimpered again which seemed to be enough of an answer for Jon. His fingers found the hem of her lacy underwear (the only pair she had brought) and dipped beneath them.

Gasping, Dany threw her head back against the tree trunk.

Almost lazily Jon’s fingers ghosted over her most sensitive parts, mapping them out. Holding her breath, Dany tried to steady herself and regain an ounce of self-control but soon realised it was becoming impossible. With an almost angry precision he plunged two digits into her, filling and stretching her deliciously. Simultaneously his thumb pressed against her swollen mound which caused Dany to moan and simper loudly.

“Shhh” he whispered and brought his lips to hers, effectively shushing her.

Seemingly satisfied that she would remain quiet, Jon returned his attention to the task at hand. Expertly his deft fingers plunged in and out of her, hitting _that perfect spot_. Shivers ran up and down her back, her knees buckled as pleasure pooled between her legs, but Jon kept her upright.

It wouldn’t take long, she was sure of it, she could already feel that familiar warmth spreading through her body, tightening like a coil ready to spring. And then he suddenly inserted yet another finger into her core, filling and stretching her further. Nonsense escaped her lips, mutterings of pleasure.

Jon increased the pace and pressed even more firmly on her clit, sending shockwaves through Dany’s already trembling form.

And suddenly everything exploded. Her orgasm hit her with full force, and she almost clamped down on Jon’s hand. In order not to fall over, she had to steady herself against Jon’s sturdy form as the waves continued to crash over her again and again.

Eventually she was able to breathe again but she still felt unsteady on her legs. Carefully Jon lowered her to the ground but continued to hold on to her. Just in case.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice filled with humor.

“Oh, piss off”.

Jon just chuckled, sounding a little too pleased with himself. She would see to shutting him up. Determined, Dany took a step forward intent on repaying Jon for his “favour” but in that moment his phone went off, buzzing insistently in his pocket.

With a shrug of his shoulders that could very well mean “do you mind?”, Jon fished the phone out of his pocket. Dany saw Robb’s name flash across the screen.

“What?” Jon answered the call, sounding more than a little annoyed. At the other end she could hear Rob laughing and saying something inaudible.

“Oh sod off,” Jon continued. “Yeah, alright. We’ll be there, you wanker.” Before Robb had a chance to reply, Jon had hung up on him.

“Apparently they’re looking for us”

Dany pressed her lips together tightly, disappointment surely evident on her face.

“I hate your family” she muttered.

“Me, too”.

\-------------------- o --------------------

In silence they trudged back to the pub. Dany felt strangely conflicted. On the one hand she was blissfully relaxed and yet incredibly frustrated. She owed Jon, she definitely did. And _gods,_ how she hated Robb and his bloody awful timing.

Arriving back at the pub, they found the rest of the group waiting outside. Robb clapped Jon jovially on the back, Arya snickered and Sansa just rolled her eyes at the sight of them. Even though Dany had done her best to right her dress, her hair was still a right mess.

Dany looked over the small group searching for Missandei but her friend was absent.

“I don’t think you’ll see her anytime soon,” Sansa explained matter of factly. “She was talking to Jacob Grey and they seemed to get on well”.

“Sorry, who?” Dany asked puzzled.

“Friend of mine,” Robb interjected. “Lives in the village, works as a music teacher. He’s a good lad, your friend will be fine.”

Dany didn’t worry about Missandei, she could handle herself. It was just a little strange how she’d disappeared. _Oh well, each to their own._

The group began their walk back to Winterfell Hall along a small path that lead over the moors. Something about the walk should have reminded Dany of Jane Eyre’s walks across the moor, but she was too caught up in her own head to cherish it.

Robb and his girlfriend, Margaery, walked ahead of the group followed by Arya and Sansa. The two sisters seemed to be bickering over something, but they were too far ahead for Dany to hear.

Beside her walked Jon, too caught up in his own thoughts to really notice where they were going.

Eventually Winterfell came into view, the impressive shape looking ominous in the darkness. Soon they would be parting for the evening, the Starks going back to their private quarters which left Dany to navigate the halls of the hotel on her own.

Unless…

She took a deep breath and then stopped. Jon, who had walked behind her, almost collided with her.

“Dany?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

_Deep breath._

Dany turned around and looked directly at Jon. It was hard to make out his expression in the darkness, but maybe that was for the best.

Bravely she stepped forward and rose on her feet to reach his ear. It was now or never.

“I’ll leave my door unlocked,” she whispered in invitation, “if you want”.

And with that she turned and strode back towards Winterfell Hall, leaving a stunned Jon behind, frozen to the spot. Once again she had managed to render him speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will do my best to get the next chapter up soon.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for now. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, there is more to come soon - I promise (it includes more smut as well). 
> 
> If anyone should be interested in beta-ing this beast, please let me know. 
> 
> Until next time!


End file.
